


I Think He Knows

by rosyemperor



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, I like to think they're SOULMATES, M/M, Since this is minsung centric and it's just drabbles I'm sorry for the ones who don't appear, Slice of Life, cyclic fic first scene happens when last scene, the love each other through the seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 12:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyemperor/pseuds/rosyemperor
Summary: Minho is light, a silver glow, shiny hues.Jisung is the Sun, bright, warm.For Minho, Jisung is home.For Jisung, Minho is home, too.





	I Think He Knows

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Girl Listens To 'I Think He Knows' By Taylor Swift, What Happens Next Will Surprise You.
> 
> Hello! This is my first Stray Kids fic! I am so excited!!!! I have fallen so hard for them in such a short time I couldn't not write about them so, enjoy this very short very cute drabble of mine.

> _I think he knows his footprints_  
_ On the sidewalk_  
_ Lead to where I can't stop_  
_ Go there every night_

Minho was firmly holding his hand, interlocking their fingers with care as he guided Jisung through the busy streets. The neon lights painted the boy with all the colours of the palette, Minho fit them all. Yellow reflected on his white shoes, like the sun that had kissed the boy’s head that morning, revelling on the golden locks, yet almost shyly, like he didn’t dare waking him up with his light. Jisung liked to look at Minho when the day was about to break out and the other was still asleep by his side, pristine white sheets tangled in his legs and his arms around Jisung’s body. As much as he claimed to hate cuddling, there was nothing he did better.

Rosy shades smeared through Minho’s body, and Jisung was reminded of love. Intense, for the hot pink: the moments where they would almost burn up, lips on each other, hungry hands reaching wherever they could, but always with care, like tongues of a never scorching fire. Baby pink were their hands, so intimate yet so innocent. Grasping each other merely to feel close. They were holding hands then, Jisung’s finger tracing soft circles in Minho’s hands. Sometimes, his boyfriend would look down at their joined fingers, pressing their palms a little harder, like he didn’t want to let go either. After that, he would look up again, into Jisung’s eyes, gifting him with a soft smile, the kind Minho saved only for him. Then, the blonde’s lips would curve tenderly, just enough for his front teeth to peep faintly. In his face, onyxes that light up from the inside, like they held a galaxy full of secrets for Jisung to uncover. He would gladly become an explorer inside them, willing to never go back. His nose would slightly crunch, his eyes, too. That smile was almost red, for it made Jisung’s heart beat so fast it could jump out of his chest.

There was something else about the way Minho’s body caught the light that had Jisung mesmerised. It wasn’t just the purple, pink, yellow, red, blue painting him with vibrance, it was about the way only Minho seemed to be able to become light himself. He had his own silver glow, so rich it damped the neon’s strength.

Minho walked and Jisung followed, entranced by the other boy’s own light. There was no where in the world he wouldn’t follow him. As the golden haired turned back, stopping Jisung on his tracks with an indecipherable expression on his face, he almost gasped. Minho pulled him in by the waist, his eyes glistening under the white shimmer of a streetlight. Their faces were close, their noses merely brushing against each other, Minho’s breath caressing Jisung’s lips before the older closed the distance between them.

“Let’s go.” The blonde-haired said with a smile, their foreheads on each other’s, reluctant to break contact. Between them, the freezing cloud of their respirations against the cold air. Then, he passed his hands through Jisung’s chocolate locks, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, grinning against them.

Jisung would go with Minho and his glow ‘til the ends of the earth.

> _I think he knows his hands around_  
_ A cold glass_  
_ Make me wanna know that body_  
_ Like it's mine_

He hadn’t expected to meet anyone that night, truly, he hadn’t. Felix had had to drag him out of bed, almost resorting to pulling out his hairs when he wouldn’t budge. Jisung didn’t deal well with failure or defeat, his go-to solution to it being sulking until the feeling went away or he became passionate about something else. Usually, the second one came earlier than the first, so he tended to enter a vicious cycle of immersing himself in a matter, only to feel like he was setting himself up to crash. Therefore, he stopped on his tracks sooner than he should have, stopping himself from reaching his full potential and adding one more disappointment to the steaming pile of them that already sat comfortably in his brain. Fun stuff.

Suffice to say, he was experiencing one of his worst slumps ever – even though he said that every time, this particular instance was the real deal –: he had been kicked out of his music programme, for no reason whatsoever. No one there had given him an explanation, merely a letter arriving at his door notifying him not to attend classes next Monday, as he was no longer enrolled in them. So, it wasn’t your usual Jisung failure, it was next level fiasco, which happened to be exactly why his best friend and roommate Felix was hell-bent on getting him out of bed and into the world.

“You literally stink, Jisung. At least take a shower, eat something and we will deal with the assholes on Monday.” It had been a week since the letter, and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go fight for his spot, moping having been his coping mechanism. If it was any other circumstance maybe he would’ve already _reacted_, as hurt as he was. He wallowed, but he also normally had the nerve to actively look for something to help or take his mind off. He hadn’t always been like that, but he was growing up, or so he liked to believe. However, he was so utterly broken by deception, he hadn’t wanted to face the music. “I can hear you whine inside your head, now please listen to me. Wash yourself, then let's swallow your pain down with alcohol. Not the healthiest method, but it’s the one I’m proposing this time.”

“Easy for you to say, you haven’t been kicked out despite having high as fuck grades, you fucktwat.” Jisung groaned from under the blankets. Was he being fair to his best friend? No. Did he care? Same answer. Sometimes one needed to let his frustration wash over every single corner of his life like a tsunami. Or maybe not. Jisung screamed when two hands close to crush his ankle in their grip.

“Get your head out of your ass.” Rightfully ordered the blonde, pulling Jisung off the bed with his full force. Soon enough, he was grabbing the chocolate-haired by the face. “You are going to come with me right now, and if you don’t, I am shaving your head bald tonight.”

Jisung was immediately convinced.

That was how he found himself leaning on the bar, cold glass of gin on his hand. Felix was chatting animatedly, but Jisung could barely mirror his energy, half-heartedly replying. He was feeling slightly better after setting foot outside their shared apartment, though, he had to give that to the younger – one day younger is still younger, he constantly annoyed Felix with that—. A while and three glasses later, he was finally letting go of himself, dancing around with the blonde, laughing loudly.

“Let’s get us something else to drink, we have been dancing for two hours straight!” He screamed above the music, trying to get the fairy-like boy to hear him. The other showed no signs of understanding what he meant, so he wrote it on his phone screen, receiving a thumbs up from his friend. He didn’t follow Jisung to the bar, but it was okay, he needed to cool down a little.

He ordered himself another gin and leaned his back on the nearest wall, eyeing the whole room with his hands closing against the freezing glass. He was positive the imprint of his palms and fingers would be there if he took his hands off. He took a sip of the white drink, watching as the room danced, reflected on the bottom of the crystal. Looking at the scene through the liquid was mystifying, the images a caricature of what was going on, the bodies warping, shrinking and bending as he gulped. He put the glass down, leaning it against his legs, staining his black jeans.

“Hi.” Said a voice on his left. He reacted instinctively, sharply turning his head to the sound. He was met with two deep brown orbs, hints of honey behind them, too. The voice had been sweet, almost as intoxicating as the mix he was drinking. The other had a face like a god, his nose straight, its tip pointed and adorned with a charming beauty mark, his lips were on the fleshy side, its shape being what was truly magnetic, almost like a heart, his teeth peeping under his top lip, eye-catchingly. He was staring intently at Jisung, so he couldn’t not stare back. “My name is Minho, and I would like to have you and your number.”

Jisung had no idea what took over him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the captivating aura of the man right next to him, but he took the other hand’s in his, leading the way. On the cab home, he texted Felix to alert the other he would not be going home alone. Next morning, when he opened his eyes to a black mop of hair beside him, he couldn’t imagine how everything would turn out.

Some days later, they met again.

Jisung had finally been forced by Felix (with some help from Chan, a shared friend of theirs) to, and he quoted, put his life in order for fuck’s sake. The three of them strolling swiftly across the campus to reach the main office. He was growing anxious, he was a mess if he had to deal with bureaucracies, all the waiting and papers exhausted him. He needed things to be done fast, quickly, immediately. Turned out, he was in his lucky day when behind the counter sat Minho, eyes lighting up in recognition as the trio walked through the door.

“Pretty boy?” The other had said, causing blood to rush quickly to Jisung’s cheeks. Of course, the other hadn’t even learned his name. He was debating between opening up a hole in the ground to hide in or flirt back. In the end, he decided to merely take it in under the questioning looks of his friends.

“Jisung for you.” He stated, walking nearer the other, who was standing up to meet him.

As life had it, Minho had an internship in the administration of admissions, getting Jisung to the top of the waiting list faster than one could say ‘cheese’. Apologizing profusely, the board got him enrolled again, admitting to compensating him for the despair their mistake may have caused. That’s all it had been, a glitch on their system, a mistake. He was never out. Sighing in relief, he hugged his friends as Felix slapped in on the back of his head for being a dumb-dumb and Chan laughed loudly. Outside was still Minho, working on something on the computer.

“Thanks.” Jisung told him, shyly.

“Yeah, no problem.” Answered Minho, looking up from the screen with his bright eyes and Jisung felt a pull. There was just something about the other, more than the alcohol or pub lights, risky outfits and loud music in their ears.

“Hey, Minho.” Jisung called, leaning on the counter to bring his face closer to the other’s. “Can I have you and your number?” The other laughed, slipping him a piece of paper under his hands.

“Let’s talk about having me later.”

> _He got that boyish look that I like in a man_  
_I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans_  
_It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands_  
_No one understands_

“You know you’re not going to see him ever again if you don’t make a move, right?” Whispered Hyunjin in his ear, referring to the guy Minho had been ogling at the whole night. His friend was undeniably right, but he didn’t have to say it. The black-haired had probably spent the last fifteen minutes trying to think up an acceptable excuse to approach a complete stranger in a pub. In the end, Hyunjin had read his mind. “Minho, you know I can see the way your brain cells are firing up trying to come up with a plan to flirt, as if we weren’t in a place that’s _perfect_ to do just that.”

He was right, once again. The problem was, for as sure of himself and gorgeous as he was, he kind of sucked at being the one to fire the hypothetical shots. He was, in no mean, shy. Minho liked to think he was boisterous at times, confident all of the time and shameless above everything. He was inventive and witty, a quick response always ready. He was never rendered speechless, unless he meant to, which was still part of his decidedly playful personality. Still, he could be deadly afraid of rejection, as much as the next person. What he also was, was observant, so he hadn’t missed the fact that the boy had come with a friend, just one.

“What if he has a boyfriend?” He questioned out loud. Jeongin elbowed him between the ribs, soft enough not to hurt him but still getting a whine out of him. His cherry-haired friend was being held by Hyunjin, both of them rolling their eyes at him.

“Then he has a boyfriend and you go home the same way you were planning to go home before he caught your attention? It’s not like he’s the love of your life, dumbass.” The youngest deadpanned. He was technically right, but rejection was still rejection. “If you don’t go, I’ll go.”

Hyunjin glanced at the one between his arms with a pout. His honey like hair fell in his eyes attractively, because his friend was a complete work of art, every single detail of him. What his friend also was, was deeply enamoured of the youngest. So, right then, Minho had an idea. He acted as if he had ignored Jeongin’s words, taking both their hands and starting to dance. The brunette went along the music enthusiastically, Jeongin joining the dance a little later. Taking advantage of the situation, he got closer to Hyunjin, leaning on his ear.

“If I leave tonight with pretty boy, you confess to Jeongin.” Hyunjin looked at him with terror in his eyes, and Minho amusedly smiled at him as the other shook his hands in the air and mouthed a long scream. With that, he had newfound energy to go make his move. Of course, not ten minutes later, he was riding in the back of a taxi, his head leaning against the white fabric of pretty boy. In the heat of the situation, he hadn’t even learned his name.

The next day, he had left as soon as he had woken up, pretty boy nowhere to be found in his own apartment. He thought about leaving a note with his number but decided against it. If they were to meet again, they would.

“You did what?!” Hyunjin screamed at him once he was done with his story. “So, you mean to tell me that after going on and on about how he was the prettiest sight your sore eyes had even seen, a cleansing, a miracle, you go home with him, and don’t give him your number because you believe destiny will get you two together?” Minho nodded, getting cushioned on the head by his friend. “You’re a complete dumbass.”

“At least I got it on last night.” The black-haired sing-sung, moving his fingers along to the rhythm. He grinned to himself, thinking about how they had kissed last night. First, softly on the cab, running his hands along the chocolate locks, letting them fall to gently cup pretty boy’s face. His cheeks were full and cute, he seemed to be even pouting into the kiss. That had been what caught Minho’s attention back the night before, the way he was both endearing and attractive, sweet and appealing. How his eyes had scanned the whole room with a shine on them, big and curious. He couldn’t help but fall, hard and fast.

“Well, I got myself a boyfriend.” His friend retorted, sticking his tongue out and effectively one-upping him. Great, now he was going to have to third-wheel even harder. He was not going to say it out loud, but he knew that was entirely his fault. Nonetheless, he was very happy for Hyunjin and Jeongin, who had been googly eyeing each other for the entirety of the past two years. It was just about time they sorted it out.

Six days after, he hadn’t lost hope, no matter how many times Hyunjin and Jeongin laughed at him.

“Look at the great Lee Minho, believing in soulmates.” Jeongin playfully mocked him, fingers interlaced with Hyunjin’s. They were obviously inseparable, Minho loved it and hated them at the same time.

“No, look at the great Lee Minho waiting on his nameless cute guy to suddenly pop out the office’s door.” They were seated inside the university admission’s office, where the trio were doing their internships. They had started a year before, when they had had too much time on their hands and a resume to fill, now they were still interning, but at least they got paid for it. Minho was supposed to tend to computer stuff with Jeongin, while Hyunjin, self-proclaimed the charming one, stood behind the counter and talked to people. Obviously, that had changed during the past week, with the other two being attached at the hip.

Now, of course, Minho wasn’t really hoping for pretty boy to appear there, he wasn’t even sure he attended Arts University. Like, what were the chances? Apparently, all of them, because in front of his eyes was the boy. Hyunjin and Jeongin looked up as Minho froze in surprise and embarrassed himself by letting out a very soft ‘Pretty boy?’, the hopeful questioning not lost in his voice.

That afternoon, he went home, his phone being flooded with messages from Jisung and a victory smug on his lips.

“I think I am owed an apology.” Both Jeongin and Hyunjin slapped his arms while laughing, Minho’s grin still present. 

> _I think he knows_  
_When we get all alone_  
_I'll make myself at home_  
_And he'll want me to stay_

Seasons had come and gone, the brown autumn hues to the vivid colours of spring to the orange heat of summer to the icy blue winter they were in, frozen air hitting on Jisung’s windows. Minho stared down at his hands, where he held a cup of steaming hot chocolate, its sweet smell filling his nose and the whole room. His eyes drifted to the window again as timid snowflakes made their way to the ground, starting to paint the street with their white cloak. He loved winter, seating around a fireplace, slowly warming his body. He loved walking around on his pyjamas, made from flannel, smooth and cosy. Above all, he had found out he loved cuddling with Jisung as the wintriness made its way to their room, pressing their bodies closer to maintain the heat. That was his excuse, in reality, he just loved to feel Jisung close.

They had been together for around nine months, and by then, Minho had practically claimed Jisung’s house as his. On his bathroom laid his toothbrush and also his toothpaste, as the other had forgotten to buy his own last week and he was mostly there, anyway. On the sink still remained the remainders of the time he had decided to bleach his hair and dye it gold. Of course, the other had excitedly offered his house to do so, and the rest was history. If houses could hold onto sound, he was sure that, on every corner, he would be able to hear the remnants of their shared laughs, their hushed voices as they got home while Felix was asleep. Every day a new memory.

“What are you thinking about?” Smooth hands around his waist, and Jisung’s face on his shoulder. He hadn’t realised he had stood up to look out the window, the blizzard still gracing the scenery. He took a sip of his cup, leaving a chocolatey moustache behind.

“Happiness.” He answered, simply. And it was true. “You. Us”

Jisung looked at him with an indescribable warmth behind his eyes. If tenderness was a person, it was most definitely the boy leaning on him. Everything about the other was gentle, from his big, round, expressive eyes to the way his eyes closed when he smiled too much, or how his voice became delicate when he wanted to express his feelings. He loved the way he was so loud and touchy at times, always trying to make everyone around him smile. He adored how he let himself be calmer around Minho, the older of the two being the one to clown himself when they were together. He was happy like that, it felt like home, more comfy than lazing around the fireplace. 

“Do you want to move together?” Asked Jisung. Minho just nodded, cutely pecking at his boyfriend’s lips. Jisung was already his home, anyway.

> _I want you, bless my soul_
> 
> _I ain't gotta tell him_  
_I think he knows_

They sat idly on their new apartment, hands locked while they watched a bad movie on the TV. It was merely background noise, the voices of the character meshing together under the sound of their voices. They were talking about everything and anything. Minho imagined that was what happiness felt like, Jisung believed there was no one else in the world, in the whole history of it, who ever came close to what they were.

Minho rested his head on Jisung’s shoulder. The younger looked down, pressing a kiss to his nose, Minho complaining playfully before putting his back straight enough to cup Jisung’s face. They kissed, like they had infinite times before. Minho loved Jisung, and Jisung loved Minho.

No one said anything, they knew.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter at: @ultlinos ♥   
I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it!


End file.
